, 1887-12-25
A PILGRIMS cHR1srMAs-coM1Nc
BY EDGAR l.. WAKEMAN.

which winds through the Yorkshire Eng
lish wales Ike a cleaning s%inuous ribbon
of silver, not further than i strong mans
voice could reach from the then quaint
old town of likely, were seen encamped
nearly an hundred Gipsics.
What n scene of animation was there!
Groups of busy Gipsies pushed on the
preparations for departure to that won
derful land beyond the sea, which had be-
come the Gipsy's as well as the poor of
Englnnd's haven and heaven. Greeting
and parting were continuous. Trailing
over the hills and into the valleys came
fresh accessions, while other bands took
sad departure. Simple folk from far
about brought token and gift, and received
gItt and token. Flushed faces and moist
cned eyes told of that in honest hearts
which unskilled lips refused to utter. Old
spae Icires that had crooncd by camp fires
for a quarter century became ~garrulous.
Gray haired men, seeming younger by
years, and touched by the witchwand of
hope, saw visions of rest beyond the deep.
Strong men saw gain and competence
Mothers smiled on Growing, tawny babes,
in happy expectancy. Youths dreamed
of adventure; maidens of ~conqucsts.
But one heart in that pretty Wharf
side camp was well nigh broken. This
was Andrews. He was a Gypsy lad, or
phaned, poor; a poverty stricken NdDken
tinker. a poor tinker, too, and despiscd,
for he was n dreamer; had shown signs of
rhymes; and was, therefore, with these
people an cutcast.
Indeed, how great an o%utcast, when an
outcast of outcastsl
He had got schooling somewhere
got notions from some shifiless MASTER"
his Gypsy brethren said; AMI it all rested
upon him as little less thar a curse, save
with n single soul in Yorkshire. Mizella
loved him; loved him for that something
in the lad which, to just this one, deitied
him.
Mizella was the pet of the Yorkshire
tribe. She was but a dainty mite of a
thing yet; but so full of Jest and wit and
merrimcnt, that her presence had come
into a thousand peasant lives and left it an
ideal dream there, How many had al
ready come wooing none knew. The
sprltc had sent them all away, no longer
her lovers; simply her valiant knights of
honor. Each factory, or hamlet, for a
half hundred miles held a discarded lover,
but always housed a friend. Well was
Mizella guarded by keen eyes and strong
arms; but she was "A Gypsy that could out
Gypsy them all.
When the camp was doing ut high
noon by mnrmurous streams; when it
slept beneath broad reaching trees, sober
moon and twinkling stars; hen Mizclla
and Andrew, in tryst, child lovers as they
We're, sale from curious eyes, rested side
by side, while he taught her to read; to
know t!;c better things he knew; to love
the things lie loved; or repeated to
her his simple rhymes, telling her they
were the work of another; and Mizclla
wondered, and loved the dcspiscd
Nu,rHcH.
These were rare moments. There is
Que God. one Nature, one Love. Even
Gipsies may reach tn a touch of all their
infinite tenderness.
"MIzellal Oh, Mizellal'
In the midst of the unwonted excite.
tnent ofthe morning, the pet and pride
al the camp had disappeared.
"Mizella!" and "Oh, Mid LAP rang
out shrilly from spae io3e to chaurie
Child, and was taken up and repeated
10y youth and maiden everywhere.
IVY, n ware n hcver is the ruchiic
clear little grip" sang out old "~bellowing
Bob Stanley" the grinder, the buToon,
the merry father.heart of every boy and
girl in the band, as he clustered and hur.
ried here and there, and. now as ever,
clustered aud hurried only.
Over there by a huge tree, where SON
one had given it a spitcful kick, lay An
drew's battered wheel, his tinker" tools
scattered about in wild disorder. Andrew
was also missing.
"Whcro was TIE daft NaoLcn, An
drew
And, where was Mizella, rdckIic2'
The throstles building their nests in the
hedge that swept down FROM the highway
until it touched the Wharfc below, could
have answered. Throstle never sang its
heart out for a lost mate. as, in that hedge
with his arm around Mizclla, the poor, de-
splscd Gypsy sang to his love soon to be
torn from him; and never so listened thros-
tie to wooing throstle's song as listened
Mizella that April morning to her lovers
song, all needless of the anxious calling
from the camp of
"Mizella, rdckliel Oh Mizcllal'
White and trembling, Andrew heard,
but held her.
Nothing to give, my dearie; nothing
but this to give you"
AN wat is hit, Andrew"
Some lincs-l've made to-you!'
"W'at!-'n' made all by yoursclf?-'n'
Tor me?' Then she kissed him impetu.
Ougly innnnoptly '.R,,l '.u ALL